Leaving that restaurant may have felt satisfying in the moment, but as I stood outside with an empty stomach and pride barely holding itself together, regret settled in quickly. I should've at least eaten what I ordered. Throwing away food in this collapsing world was almost a sin.
Of course, I couldn't go back inside while the protagonist's party was still there. I wasn't eager for a round two of public humiliation. Unfortunately, there didn't seem to be any other restaurants nearby either. The food industry in this world was severely underdeveloped; one establishment covering an entire district was considered normal.
With no alternative left, I decided to return to the pawn shop.
Upon entering, I noticed the old man was gone. Instead, a little girl — no older than ten — sat behind the counter, her legs swinging back and forth as she nibbled on a candy. She had her hair tied into twin braids, and her curious eyes blinked brightly at me.
"Welcome!" she said cheerfully before taking another small bite from her candy. "What do you need?"
I asked where the old man had gone.
"Grandpa went out for a bit," she replied. "Some business."
That likely meant he was getting the items I brought properly appraised. The thought calmed me slightly — the more thorough the inspection, the better the price I'd receive.
Since I had time to kill, I told her that I would browse around for a while. She nodded in an unconcerned manner and returned to her candy, leaving me to wander the cluttered shelves.
The shop had a surprisingly vast assortment — from rusting swords to expensive-looking spellbooks, magical scrolls sealed in protective cases, enchanted trinkets, and alchemical supplies. It was a treasure trove of mystery and mischief, and yet, none of it was useful to me.
With stats like these, I would probably cut my own foot off before properly wielding a sword. And magic? The moment I cast an intermediate spell, I'd probably faint from mana depletion. My mana stat was 4. I might as well set my skull on fire and call it a day.
I was ready to give up my exploration when something unusual caught my eye — something that absolutely did not belong in a typical fantasy setting.
A shotgun.
It wasn't a rusty medieval prototype, but a genuine shotgun—sleek metal, polished wood, intricate runes carved into the barrel—displayed casually among swords and spellbooks, as if it belonged there.
Surprised, I immediately called out the System window to examine its information.
[Reaver]
Grade: Unique (Relic)
Origin: Lumeveil Empire
Description: A restored artifact recovered from the dungeonified ruins of the Lumeveil Empire. Compatible with both physical and mana-infused ammunition.
The Lumeveil Empire — I knew the name all too well. Two hundred years ago, they stood as the pinnacle of magical engineering, seamlessly merging sorcery with technology. Their creations included mana-powered firearms, mechanical golems, and spell-driven artillery—wonders far ahead of their time.
Then the great dungeon outbreak occurred.
Cities collapsed.
The empire perished overnight.
And what remained of their legacy now lay buried deep within corrupted labyrinths.
Firearms still existed in Asteria—expensive, relic-grade collectibles usually hoarded by nobles—but they were considered little more than eccentric toys. In a world of knights and mages, guns offered almost no practical value.
After all… what could a bullet do?
Fire at a mage?
They would simply conjure a magical barrier and laugh.
Shoot at a knight?
Even low-ranked ones possessed senses and reflexes sharp enough to evade bullets. High-ranked knights could outrun them.
Try it against a monster?
The shot would bounce off their hide like a pebble off a boulder.
In short:
Guns were useless.
At least, for everyone else.
But for someone like me—someone who couldn't wield a sword properly and had the magical potential of a dead fish—this "useless" weapon felt strangely ideal. Even comforting. Familiar.
While I was absorbed in my thoughts, a voice rasped behind me.
"Something caught your eye?"
The old man had returned.
"Indeed."
I gently lifted the shotgun, appreciating its weight and craftsmanship. "How much for this?"
"A gun, huh? That's quite the unusual choice," he remarked with a knowing smile. "But a customer's preference isn't mine to judge."
"That piece goes for ten gold coins."
"Ten gold coins?"
I raised a brow. That was a steep price. One gold coin was worth about a thousand dollars back on Earth. Ten gold for a weapon that nobody respected? It sounded absurd.
"It isn't expensive at all," he countered, reading my skepticism. "This is an authentic relic from Lumeveil, not some cheap imitation hammered together in a back alley workshop."
"Authentic or not, it's still practically useless," I replied, attempting to negotiate.
The old man chuckled. "Practicality doesn't matter to noble ladies seeking novelty. A rare artifact like this? They'll pay any price if it lets them flaunt wealth."
…He wasn't wrong.
To nobles, money was simply another tool for ego.
Once, Lucien would have bought this without blinking.
But right now, I didn't have that luxury.
Seeing me hesitate, the old man leaned forward with a grin.
"What troubles you, young master? If it's money, then worry not."
I glanced up.
"All the items you brought earlier—sold," he announced proudly. "Every single one was high quality. I barely had to lift a finger. They were snatched up instantly."
My heart leapt before I could stop it.
"So? How much?"
Instead of answering, he dropped a hefty pouch on the counter. Coins clinked loudly, a sound sweeter than any music this world could offer.
"Five hundred forty gold coins," he declared.
For a moment, my brain simply stopped functioning.
Five hundred forty gold.
Equivalent to $540,000 back home.
I… was rich. Filthy rich.
Thank you, Lucien.
Thank you for being a shallow, spendthrift noble.
Despite the storm of excitement swirling inside me, I kept my expression perfectly neutral.
Poker face.
Always maintain poker face.